


Leave Her to Heaven

by Singofsolace



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Sister Act AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:43:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27197998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singofsolace/pseuds/Singofsolace
Summary: When Zelda Spellman witnesses her lover, Faustus Blackwood, murder a man for giving damning information about him to the police, she is forced to hide away in a convent until she can testify against him in court. The convent is home to a delightful group of misfits, including Lilith, who might just be the most unconventional nun Zelda's ever met. Together, they learn not only how to trust in one another, but also how to love—all through the healing power of music.or, the Sister Act AU that no one asked for, written in response to the Week Four  prompt of the Madam Spellman Fictober Challenge: "Costumes & Disguises"
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Lilith, Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 27
Kudos: 44
Collections: Madam Spellman Fictober Challenge





	Leave Her to Heaven

Zelda Spellman thought Las Vegas would be the answer to all of her problems. Even as a teenager, she’d always known a quiet suburban life just wasn’t for her. No matter how much her parents insisted the “real” world would chew her up and spit her right back out, Zelda had been determined to leave home as soon as she could, if only to get away from her exceptionally Catholic family.

She used to get calls from her father, from time to time, urging her to return like the Prodigal son. He claimed all would be forgiven, but her father was more likely to take a belt to her back than forgive a single thing she’d ever done. In the little town of Greendale, she’d be just another failed artist-turned-housewife, but in Nevada, she was actually a professional singer.

A professional singer performing in all the sleaziest lounges and bars the country had to offer, but a singer nonetheless.

Thirty years of hard work and she was finally the lead vocalist of a decently successful cabaret group, The Weird Sisters. Her back up girls were all young enough to be her daughters, but she found more nightclubs hired her when she aligned herself with young, pretty things for the piss-drunk gamblers to look at while she did all the heavy lifting when it came to the vocals.

Prudence Night wasn’t happy with this arrangement, however, as she kept going off on her own riffs, adding ornamentation where there shouldn’t be any. Zelda had half a mind to turn around and smack her right there in front of the three gamblers who were actually paying attention to their show.

But it served her right, Zelda supposed, for pandering to her nonexistent audience by working with bright young things who were hardly a few years older than her niece. They were all flair and no substance.

Zelda wanted gravitas. She wanted depth. She wanted… respect.

But back in her hotel room after the show, respect seemed in short supply.

“You still haven’t told me what she said.”

“What who said?” Faustus wasn’t looking at her as he spoke. The coward.

Zelda watched the tattoos on Faustus Blackwood’s back ripple as he put his shirt back on.

“What who said?” Zelda echoed him in disbelief, slipping her arms into her kimono to cover her nakedness. “Your _wife_ , Faustus.”

Pointedly ignoring her words, Faustus finally turned so that he could rove his eyes over her body. “Have I told you how gorgeous you are today?” he said, pulling her close to him by the belt of her kimono. His lips latched onto her neck even as she shoved him away.

“You are so full of it,” Zelda said, turning around so that she could look for her clothes. “You didn’t tell her, did you? I knew it. I _knew_ you weren’t going to tell her.”

“Stop,” said Faustus, taking the bra right out her hands as she picked it up off the floor before grabbing her by the arms and forcing her to sit back down onto the bed. “You know how much I want you. I even went to Confession today.”

“ _You_ went to Confession? _Confession_ confession?” said Zelda, not happy at being manhandled, but decidedly more thrown off by his words. She hadn’t been to Confession since her father dragged her by the hair into the booth before her Confirmation.

“I told Father Enoch about you. About how we always come back to each other.”

Zelda shook her head, not particularly interested in where this conversation was going. “And what did he say?”

“He said if I got divorced, I’d burn in Hell for all eternity.”

As Faustus spoke, he pulled on Zelda’s kimono until it slipped off of her shoulders, despite the fact that he was openly admitting that she would never be more to him than a mistress.

“You’re never going to tell Constance, are you?” said Zelda, raising her leg so that her foot would press against his chest, pushing him away.

“Not never, just not now,” said Faustus, grabbing her ankle so that he could move her leg to the side and step between them.

“Get out,” Zelda said, her voice low and threatening. When Faustus didn’t move from between her legs, she shoved him, hard, so that she could stand up. “I said: get out.”

Faustus glared but eventually relented, walking away towards the door. “You should get dressed. You have another show in twenty minutes.”

Zelda reached down, grabbed one of her heels, and tossed it at him. “Get out!”

* * *

“You’re quitting just because my father won’t leave his wife?” said Prudence dubiously as she painted her lips in the dressing room mirror.

“No, I’m quitting for a lot of reasons. It’s just something I have to do,” said Zelda, packing up the dresses that she couldn’t afford to replace.

“But what’s going to happen to the act?” said Dorcas, her eyes wide and mouth open as she put on her mascara.

“You can go back to being a trio. You were a group before you met me,” said Zelda, tossing Prudence a tissue to dab off the extra lipstick, as she’d put far too much on to be appropriate, even for a dirty casino; they weren’t hookers. Prudence glared at her, but accepted the tissue nonetheless. Zelda was struck by how much she looked like Faustus when she scowled at her like that.

Agatha interrupted Zelda’s thoughts, speaking as she struggled to zip up her dress, “Yeah, but for three years you’ve picked our music, told us where to stand, negotiated our contracts—”

Zelda moved to help, sliding the zipper up with ease. “It’s not rocket science. You three can handle it. You’ll still have Blackwood to help negotiate— _don’t you dare pack any more of my makeup into that bag, Prudence_ ,” Zelda interrupted her own sentence, pointing her finger across the tiny dressing room to where Prudence was surreptitiously slipping Zelda’s makeup into her own kit.

Just as Dorcas took off her robe and began to step into her own costume, two young men—Zelda would even call them boys, if they weren’t pretending so hard to be grown men with all their bluster—entered the dressing room. Zelda immediately stepped in front of Dorcas to shield her nakedness from their eyes.

“What do you want? And don’t you ever _knock_?”

“She doesn’t have anything I haven’t seen before,” said Nick, one of Faustus’ hired hoodlums that made up the Judas Boys. He shot Dorcas a sideways smile from around Zelda’s body, which boiled her blood. Just because the Weird Sisters seemed to thrive on this sort of attention, didn’t mean she wanted to see them get toyed with. They reminded her too much of her niece for her not to be protective of them.

“Well stop trying to memorize it,” Zelda growled, stepping into Nick’s space as Dorcas finished putting on her dress. Despite her intimidation, Nick just switched his attention to Prudence with a saucy wink, though Prudence’s only response was to roll her eyes and cross her arms in disgust.

“This is from Blackwood,” the other boy, Luke Chalfant, said, holding out a box.

Zelda waved him off, not interested in whatever gift Blackwood had seen fit to bribe her with. “I hope it’s his dead body.”

“He sends it with love,” Luke tried again, ever the loyal lackey.

“Oh, really? Why didn’t he bring it to me himself, then?” said Zelda, tired of being manipulated.

“He wanted to, but he’s got a big meeting going on upstairs,” said Nick, before directing his charms towards the final Weird Sister. “Hey, Agatha.”

Agatha smiled dreamily. “Hi.”

Zelda detested young romance. “Could you say goodnight to these clowns, please, girls? I’m getting a headache. I don’t want them in here. Get out.”

“Let’s go,” Luke pulled on Nick’s elbow to stop his flirting with Agatha.

“Alright, I’m going!” said Nick as Luke dragged him towards the door. “Take it easy.”

“Well, at least you got something out of all of this,” said Prudence, moving to pick up the box. “Come on, Zelda, open it!”

“Yes!” agreed Dorcas.

“Why should I open it? I don’t give a damn what that excuse for a man thinks he can bribe me with this time,” said Zelda, grabbing her favorite leopard scarf off the costume rack.

“I’ll open it!” said Prudence, already moving to take the bow off. “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it. He’s _my_ father and he never gets me anything.”

The Weird Sisters all gathered round as Prudence lifted a truly gorgeous fox fur out of the box.

Dorcas made a noise of excitement that prompted Zelda to step forward and snatch the fur out of Prudence’s hands.

“Clearly, Mr. Blackwood feels he can win me back by sending me this… absolutely _fabulous_ fur,” said Zelda, draping it around her shoulders as she looked into the full-length mirror next to the costume rack.

The Weird Sisters stood on all sides of her, watching Zelda stare at her reflection.

“Well, say something!” said Prudence, impatient.

Zelda sighed. “Some women would fall for a stunt like this, but he can’t just buy his way back into my good graces. I think I’ll let him sweat for a while. See what life’s like without—” Zelda took the fur off, intent on folding it back up and returning it to the box when her eyes caught a flash of embroidery, “—me.”

Zelda stared at the embroidered name in disbelief.

_Constance Blackwood._

“What? What’s wrong?” asked Dorcas.

Zelda looked up at three expectant, young faces and tried not to let the hurt creep into her voice. “Constance Blackwood. He gave me his wife’s fur. His _wife’_ s fur!”

Prudence’s face fell, but Agatha shrugged it off, grabbing the fur before Zelda could throw it back into the box. “Put it back on. It’s yours now. You deserve it.”

“No!” said Zelda, trying to school her features into something dignified, but she could feel the first traitorous prick of needles behind her eyes. The nerve of that man. “No, I don’t deserve it. I didn’t earn it. You don’t _earn_ other people’s wife’s fur!”

Zelda snatched it away from Agatha, who let it go without any further protest.

“I’ll go upstairs to give it back to him, and then I’m getting the hell out of this place,” Zelda said, giving the three girls one last look before walking towards the door. She almost left without saying goodbye, but something stopped her as she put her hand on the doorknob.

Turning around to look at the three crestfallen girls—even Prudence looked sad to see her leave, which was a surprise—Zelda said with as much sincerity as she could when her heart was breaking, “Good luck, girls. Let this be a lesson to you: don’t make the same mistakes I did. You’ve got talent and you’ve got brains and you’ve got skill. Don’t waste it on a man that doesn’t deserve you.”

With that, Zelda swept out of the room, fur in hand.

* * *

As she walked through the casino and up the stairs to where Faustus usually held his meetings, Zelda contemplated where she should go now that her time in Las Vegas had come to an end. Los Angeles would be nice, but she hardly had enough money to get started all over again in such a big place. She could go to Miami—Miami would be beautiful at this time of year, and she wouldn’t need her goddamn lover’s wife’s fur _there_ —but it would be far too hot come June. She supposed she could always go back home to upstate New York, where Hilda was raising their niece, Sabrina, to be a proper _person_ , not just some washed-up lounge singer always running away from her problems.

But going home would mean having to apologize for leaving in the first place, for fighting with their brother right before he and his wife died, for forsaking the Church and leaving Hilda alone, not only to raise their infant niece, but also to rehabilitate their nephew, Ambrose, who’d gotten mixed up with a dangerous crowd in London and deported back to the States as part of his punishment.

She didn’t think her sister would ever be able to forgive her, but even if Hilda found it in her heart to let Zelda off the hook, she didn’t think she could ever forgive _herself_.

Taking a deep breath, Zelda pushed open the door marked “private,” intent on at least doing this one thing right. She couldn’t take Constance’s fur stole. She’d always gotten along with Constance; they’d bonded over their shared interest in music, and when she suffered miscarriage after miscarriage, Zelda was always there with a cup of tea and a shoulder to cry on.

While sleeping with the woman’s husband was no kindness by most people's standards, Zelda liked to think it actually _was_. Faustus was an animal in the bedroom, which suited Zelda’s own proclivities, while Constance had often told her how she hated his roughness, and feared that might be part of the reason why she could never carry a baby to term. At least when Zelda was screwing him, he spent most of his anger and energy on her instead.

Pushing the image of Constance’s tear-stained face out of her mind, Zelda opened the door to Faustus’ office.

Zelda saw the scene as if in slow motion. Young Nicholas Scratch had a gun pointed at Luke’s head, and then suddenly his head was no more.

_Bang._

Blood. So much blood.

“Zelda?”

Zelda blinked, shaking her head, trying to get the image of the poor boy’s brains scattered across the carpet out of her mind's eye.

“Zelda, is there a problem?”

Zelda looked up to see Faustus and Nick staring at her. A few other Judas Boys were hovering in the background, ready to act.

Faustus clarified: “Is there a problem _with the fur?”_

It was only then that Zelda realized she’d dropped the fur to the ground in her surprise.

“No, no, not with the fur, no,” she said, scrambling to pick it back up. “The fox fur is lovely. Thank you.”

“Is that why you came here? To thank me?” Faustus said, his voice a not-so-subtle threat.

“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you.”

Faustus moved closer to her, stepping over the dead body like it was nothing. “And to apologize for the things you said earlier?”

Zelda nodded mutely, unsure what he was going to do to her now that she’d seen… what she saw.

“Forgotten. Completely. Do you understand me?” said Faustus, his hand reaching out to grab a fistful of her hair. He didn’t pull it—he just held it in his hand, idly, a gesture that could be easily mistaken as a loving one.

“Of course—forgotten,” Zelda said, sucking in a sharp breath as he played with her hair. “Forgotten.”

“Good girl,” he said, grabbing her by the shoulders instead. “That’s a good girl. I’ll see you back at your hotel room?”

Zelda’s mind shrieked at her to run even as she nodded demurely. “Yes.”

Faustus pulled her into a kiss, then. Zelda tried not to resist it, despite the smell of blood making her stomach turn. She’d never kissed someone next to a dead body before. The dead body of a boy she’d spoken to only a few minutes ago.

“Go ahead,” he said, indicating she could leave. “I’ll see you soon.”

Zelda nodded mutely before leaving, trying to keep herself from showing just how disturbed she was.

Apparently, she didn’t do a very good job, because as the door clicked closed behind her, she heard Nick Scratch say, “I don’t know, boss. She seemed pretty shaken. She’s gonna be a problem.”

She heard Blackwood sigh, even through the door. “Bring her back. Now. I’ll give her a talk.”

Zelda’s eyes widened, but her feet remained rooted to the floor.

“And if she runs?” asked Nick.

“Take care of it,” said Faustus, which shocked Zelda out of her stupor.

She ran like hell.

* * *

Zelda was still out of breath when she was explaining it all to the police. Officer Kinkle and Lieutenant Putnam let her tell her story from start to finish without interruption before Mr. Kinkle finally gestured for her to stop.

“You’re Blackwood’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Zelda didn’t know what that had to do with anything. “Considering his gang just chased me through a casino trying to shoot me, I don’t think we’re currently in a relationship, no.”

Lt. Putnam looked at her with much kinder eyes than Officer Kinkle. “What he means to say is: were you aware that Blackwood is a major underworld figure while you were together?”

Zelda felt dizzy at the thought of her childhood boyfriend who took her virginity in the back of his beat-up Subaru suddenly being some kind of mob boss. Sure, she knew he’d gotten his hands on a lot money in recent years, but she always assumed that was related to the casino.

“What are you talking about?” said Zelda, flinching as Officer Kinkle moved out of the corner of her eye, but she was surprised to discover that he’d only moved in order to get her a cup of coffee.

It tasted like shit, but at least it gave her something to do with her hands.

“Let’s put it this way,” said Kinkle, leaning back on the edge of the desk. “Blackwood’s got his fingers in a lot of pies that go ka-boom whenever he says the word.”

This didn’t clarify much of anything, so Lt. Putnam said, “He’s a bigtime drug supplier, money launderer, you name it. We’ve had surveillance on him for eighteen months, but all of that footage isn’t worth anything unless we get a witness who can testify against him.”

“Problem is, all our witnesses keep getting a bullet between the eyes, like Lucas Chalfant,” said Kinkle.

Zelda looked between the two men, the full horror of the situation dawning on her. “Are you saying… Luke was going to testify? _That’s_ why he was killed?”

Putnam nodded. “But if you testify about what you saw, we can put him away for good.”

Zelda suddenly felt extremely light-headed. “You’re telling me this man is a dangerous criminal—one that even the police can’t touch—and you want me to testify against him? Do you know what he’d do to me if he found out? He’d track me down no matter where I went and have me killed in the worst way possible.”

“Zelda,” said Putnam, making a calming motion with his hands. “May I call you Zelda?”

“You can call me whatever you want as long as you keep me alive!” said Zelda, her voice rising.

“We wouldn’t put you at risk if we couldn’t protect you.”

“I think Luke Chalfant would beg to differ,” hissed Zelda, still trying to block out the memory of his dead body.

“It’ll only take a couple of months to get a court date,” said Kinkle, crossing his arms, as if he thought she was being unreasonable.

“If you testify, I’m gonna put you in the last place on earth anyone would ever look for you,” said Lieutenant Putnam, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

* * *

Lilith had been at St. Katherine’s for thirty-seven years—ever since she ran away from her foster home at sixteen and wound up on the streets of San Francisco without a penny to her name. It was a rough life, but it was better than being at Lucifer’s beck and call. Lucifer was her foster brother, and he was as cunning as he was cruel. She was relieved to be free of him, even if it meant losing a roof over her head.

Lilith hadn’t eaten in a week, and was seriously considering joining the working women on the street corner, when Sister Dezmelda, a nun at the local parish, St. Katherine’s, had stumbled upon her in an alley.

St. Katherine’s took her in. It wasn’t anything like what she’d known before, but it was a quiet, peaceful sort of life. She wasn’t a particularly religious person, as none of her foster parents had instilled in her a sense of faith, but she found that studying the Bible was a small price to pay for three meals a day. It beat juvie, she thought, and so she contented herself with taking care of the garden. She grew the biggest and juiciest tomatoes the convent had ever tasted, and she was proud to be accepted as part of their family.

And so, for nearly forty years, the convent had been Lilith’s home. There were times when she wished she’d chosen another path, but there was no use dwelling on the road not taken.

It wasn’t until Dezmelda, who was now Mother Superior, called her into her office on a Thursday afternoon that Lilith realized her quiet life was about to be turned upside down.

“Sister Lilith, come in,” said Dezmelda, beckoning her in. “I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

Someone, indeed. Lilith’s eyes widened as she took in the stranger seated in front of Mother Superior’s desk. This had to be the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, with strawberry-blonde hair and bright green eyes that looked at her with a perplexed expression, as if she, too, didn’t know what to make of all this.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs.…?”

“Zelda,” the woman said, lifting her chin.

A proud one, then.

“Zelda,” Lilith nodded, shaking her hand. “My name is Lilith. They tried to call me Sister Mary-Lazarus, but it never quite caught on.”

“Quite,” said Dezmelda, whose eyes were laughing even as her lips thinned. “Lilith, will you step outside the office with me for just a moment?”

When the door closed behind them, Dezmelda looked Lilith up and down before saying, “This woman has come to us in a time of need. I’ve called you here to be a guide, of sorts, to her. You came from a much different life than this—”

“Nearly forty years ago!” Lilith interrupted, before remembering she ought to show Mother Superior more respect. “Sorry, Reverend Mother.”

“That’s quite alright, Sister. I’ve gotten used to your outbursts,” said Dezmelda. “Now, this woman is being targeted by a dangerous man. We at St. Katherine’s must do our best to hide her from him, and I thought, who better to help her adjust to our ways than you?”

Lilith sputtered, thinking of the woman’s tight clothes, fancy jewelry, and leopard-print scarf. “That’s not a person you can hide. That’s a _very conspicuous_ _person_ , designed to stick out!”

Dezmelda took her hand and squeezed it. “You are a very conspicuous person, my dear, and these walls have still kept you safe for all this time.”

Lilith shuddered at the reminder of Lucifer. She still had dreams, from time to time, that he would find her and drag her out of the convent by her hair.

“But Reverend Mother, even after all these years, I’m still not a very good nun. Why don’t you let Sister Marie LaFleur do it? She’s an outsider, too.”

“Sister Marie doesn’t need the lesson in responsibility— _you_ do.”

Lilith’s mouth opened and closed, lost for words.

“You have taken a vow of hospitality to all in need,” Dezmelda reminded her. “Watch over her, and the Lord will watch over you. Now, let’s go back in, shall we?”

With that, they opened the door, only to discover Zelda having built a tower to the window, where she was standing rather precariously on a stack of books in order to smoke.

“I’m sorry, it’s just—I really needed a smoke, and I wasn’t sure you’d let me out now that I’m here.”

Dezmelda sighed. “This is a convent, not a prison. But I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t smoke within these walls. You may do it in the courtyard, and the courtyard only, is that understood?”

“Yes, of course,” said Zelda, trying to find her way back down the makeshift tower she’d built. Lilith immediately moved to offer her a hand, lest she fall. Zelda looked surprised, but grateful, as she took her hand. Lilith felt like she could get lost in those green eyes—

“Now, is there a Saint’s name you’d like to take during your time here?” said Dezmelda, her lips curled upward at the corners as Lilith and Zelda shared a moment, gazing at each other. Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea, after all; Dezmelda had seen that look in Lilith’s eyes before, and it always meant trouble.

Zelda looked from Lilith to Dezmelda in surprise. “I… I was raised Catholic, but I haven’t practiced in years. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to choose a name. Can’t I keep my own, like… Lilith, was it?”

Lilith’s face flushed with heat upon hearing her name in Zelda’s mouth.

“You may,” Dezmelda said, nodding. “We are a very traditional convent, in many ways, but I’ve had to adapt to ensure the convent survives. But I will not relent on your attire. Lilith, would you procure our guest a habit?”

Lilith sputtered, “Y-yes, of course,” before gesturing for Zelda to follow her. “This way, Sister.”

Zelda followed, but not before sending one last dubious look at Mother Superior.

What in heaven had she gotten herself into?

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment below if you have a moment to share your thoughts! I can't tell you how much your comments mean to me.


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